


Selenicereus

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Inception (2010), Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Community: Weiss_kreuzmas, Dream Sex, Dreams, Dreamsharing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Schwarz has a difficult target for extraction. Schuldig finds an in.</p>
<p>There is a slight reference to <em>Inception's</em> plot in the story, but this is otherwise wholly a Weiss AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selenicereus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_squared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_squared/gifts).



> The title comes from [the moonlight cactus,](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moonlight_cactus) which blossoms only at night. Thanks so much to [](http://tiggymalvern.livejournal.com/profile)[**tiggymalvern**](http://tiggymalvern.livejournal.com/) and [](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/)**indelicateink** for betaing.

"This one's impossible," Schuldig said. "I don't care how interesting his brain must be. We're wasting our time."

“It’s just an extraction,” Crawford said. “It should be simple.”

“Some American pulls off an inception and all of a sudden our regular job’s ‘easy,’” Farfarello noted, arching his eyebrow. “You’re too competitive.” He continued to shuffle through the file; it wasn't every day they were asked to get into the mind of a former assassin under twenty.

Schuldig’s eyes were still on the security video. “This kid’s locked up tighter than a nun an hour before Mass. There’s not a minute he isn’t watched. Is he really the only way?”

“That’s what the client says,” Crawford said. “And he’s paying us too much for me to argue.”

“We’re going to need time with him,” Schuldig said. “This isn’t a secret he’s got locked up in a vault. He might not even know he _has_ this. We’re going to have to dig through who knows how much shit, not including his secret assassin past. And how the hell do we get the drop on an assassin?”

“I’m not arguing with that,” Crawford said. “But you of all people have the skills to accomplish what’s needed.”

“We need an in,” Schuldig said. “All the architecture in the world won’t help if Takatori doesn’t bite. And if we can’t get enough access to hook him up—“

“I’ll take care of that,” Crawford said. “You just worry about the extraction.”

Schuldig resisted the urge to sigh. “What about the kid?”

“The kid will do what I tell him to,” Crawford said. “You know that.”

“’The kid’ is listening to both of you, you know,” Nagi snapped.

Crawford whipped around and faced him, eyes hard and unflinching behind his glasses. “Was I wrong?”

Nagi didn’t answer.

“We just need something to keep him distracted,” Crawford said. “Surely you can manage that.”

“Not without seeing him,” Schuldig protested. “I’ve got nothing to go on now but ghosts.”

“His father, his brothers—“

“If any of our intel is right, they betrayed him,” Schuldig said. “They lied to him. Repeatedly. I go in with one of them, I may end up playing out some kind of Oedipal revenge fantasy. He shoots me in the head, and we’re out of time.”

Crawford was about to protest that that was unlikely, then remembered that the evidence indicated that the target had indeed shot one of his siblings in the head. “What about the girl?” he asked. "The sister, cousin, whatever she was?"

Schuldig shook his head. “Maybe. But she was close to the father. His mother’s the only one we might be able to play out a reasonable scenario with, and even then I’m not sure. There’s not a person in this setup who isn’t stained black.”

“Then we do something with intrigue,” Farfarello said. “Give him an adventure. Let him uncover a grand conspiracy.”

“And watch him dig through the memories we’re trying to find—“

“Exactly,” Crawford said, brightening. “He does the work for us. I told you this would be simple.”

“As long as the information he’s sifting through is what the client’s looking for,” Farfarello said. “What exactly are we looking for, Crawford? I’m sure the Takatori family secrets are fascinating, but I don’t want to spend three hours looking through financial records when the client wants their secret recipe for salmon tempura.”

Nagi held back a snort of laughter. Crawford glared at him. “I told you,” he said. “That information is need-to-know.”

“I believe we have reached the point where we need to know,” Farfarello replied. “Or would you rather have us stumble blindly through the dream?”

Crawford sighed. “No,” he said. “But the client hasn’t sent me the information yet.”

Schuldig laughed. “I knew it. We could be looking for someone’s fucking license plate number for all you know.”

That earned Schuldig a glare. “It’s more substantial than that,” he snapped. “We have some idea of the parameters of the mission—it relates to the Takatori family, but I have no confirmation as to how.”

“We need to know how,” Nagi said. “Soon.”

“They will give us the full information when we’re ready with the mission, and no sooner.”

“I’m not going in blind on a dead mother,” Schuldig snapped. ‘We need something solid.”

Crawford pushed his glasses up his nose. “You just want to run a seduction.”

“They work,” Schuldig said. “And they’re a lot faster than arguing with ghosts.”

“You said yourself he’s watched twenty-four hours,” Nagi said quietly. “How would you make a seduction work?”

This was Schuldig’s area of expertise, and he warmed to it instantly. “They don’t literally keep him locked up,” Schuldig said. “They just keep him monitored. They trot him out for parties all the time. I assume that’s where our leader plans on grabbing him for the PASIV. We take a look at him, see what he likes, who he wants. It’s easy to duplicate someone he’s already seen before.”

“So what?” Farfarello said. “We get jobs as waiters?”

Schuldig’s smile grew more feral. “Let's have our client get us in.”

 

_Just smile and look pretty,_ Schuldig said. _Keep your eye on the target. See what he likes. It’s simple._

Nagi didn’t understand why he couldn’t have just stayed back in the hotel room and monitored security cameras, but Schuldig insisted that, with such limited access to the client, all hands needed to be on deck. At least he hadn’t gotten Farfarello’s job. Nagi looked across the room to where their chemist, smiling, was serving drinks on a silver tray. Nagi knew that smile; it was a smile that wanted to break things. As soon and violently as possible.

Crawford looked like he belonged there. Farfarello said he was ‘to the manor born,’ or maybe manner, Nagi never remembered which. At any rate, he looked as natural holding a cocktail and looking bored as he did punching people in the face in a dreamscape.

Takatori Mamoru looked like he belonged, too; his clothes were perfect, his tie matched his eyes, his body language casually disinterested. But there was a certain brittleness around him, like he didn’t quite want to belong. He looked tired, and as bored as Crawford.

He definitely wouldn't build a cocktail party for this job. Farfarello had been onto something when he suggested an adventure. Nagi wondered what the Takatori family mansion looked like; Crawford had said something about a castle. Family houses always held secrets, anyway. He’d have to get floor plans, it’d be easy to make the place more intimidating, more mysterious. A treasure hunt. It might actually be fun.

“You’re staring,” Schuldig purred into his ear, and he jumped.

“I am not,” Nagi protested, and turned his attention to the bar, where Crawford was refilling his drink.

“No, don’t stop,” Schuldig said. “He might be interested. You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” Nagi said, and turned away from him. There had to be someone he could make small talk with. Anyone. That guy over there looked bored. He also looked a little like what Nagi had always imagined serial killers would look like….

Maybe he should just get more food.

He walked over to the buffet table. The shrimp looked pretty good. He speared a couple with a toothpick and put them on his plate.

“Don’t do it,” a voice said next to his ear. “Go with the yakatori, it’s the only thing that’s not disgusting.”

“Thanks,” Nagi said, and grabbed a few sticks before looking his benefactor in the eye.

Takatori. Of course. Up close, he looked younger, softer, even more tired than he’d seemed at a distance. And pretty. Nagi suddenly understood how Takatori had managed to kill so many people. He looked as harmless as a kitten.

Which was what Crawford had always said about Nagi, and everyone on his team knew how wrong that was. "So," he said. "Why are you suffering through this?"

Takatori shrugged. "Social obligations. Important for me to be seen in the corridors of power. I haven't seen you around before, though."

"I'm part of a contracting firm," Nagi said, nodding at Crawford. "For some reason, the whole team had to be here. I think we're supposed to make a good impression."

"Security?"

"Yeah, online."

Takatori's smile was sweet, almost naive, almost certainly fake. "Who are you trying to impress?"

"Clients with significant amounts of disposable income," Nagi said. "The more paranoid the better."

Takatori chuckled at that. "I should introduce you to Grandfather," he said. "Though I think he's quite satisfied with the current staff." His eyes slid over to a dark-suited man who had been watching Takatori most of the night. "At least, they always seem to keep track of me." Nagi's surprise must have shown on his face, because he added: "You know how it is. You get kidnapped once, they never stop worrying."

This was a persona, Nagi realized; he'd read enough of the intelligence reports to know that Tsukiyono Omi had thrown them off and on easily. Earnest high school student, hard-eyed killer, cynical party guest. Who was real, underneath all that?

"I assume you know my name--"

"Yeah," Nagi said. "I'm sorry." He bowed his head. "Naoe Nagi."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Naoe-san." Underneath the politeness, Nagi was being evaluated. "I hope you enjoy the yakatori."

Takatori glided away, smiling and nodding at Serial Killer Guy. Nagi watched the man in the dark suit track their movements.

"Well," Schuldig purred, stealing a skewer of yakatori off Nagi's plate. "That was easy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nagi said stiffly.

"You're our in."

"I'm an architect."

"And the target can't stop looking at you," Schuldig noted. "Crawford will just have to deal."

 

A week later, a different party; this one a charity ball for earthquake relief. Takatori was standing at the edge of the room, scanning the crowd; his eyes lit, just a little, when he saw Nagi, and he nodded. Nagi tried not to stare at his mouth.

"He'll come to you," Schuldig hissed in his earpiece. "This is going to be the easiest job we've ever pulled."

He took a moment to hate Schuldig and went to the patio. There were lit torches so people could talk and flirt in the shadows; it was even more crowded than the main room. Nagi sighed. There was no escaping the crush of people. At least the air was less stale outside. He dropped into a chair and tried to clear his head.

Takatori took the seat next to him a few minutes later, balancing a plate of stuffed mushrooms in his hand. "Your employer must be a glutton for punishment," he said cheerfully.

"You have no idea."

"I did find out a little about you," Takatori said. "Very specific kind of security you specialize in." He popped a mushroom into his mouth and chewed very deliberately. "I think Grandfather would be very interested, if you're willing to demonstrate."

Nagi thought a moment before answering. "Are you inviting me into your mind, Takatori?"

Takatori moved closer. "Would you like to know a secret, Naoe?" He leaned forward so his breath touched Nagi's ear. "I'm almost out of secrets. I'm watched every second. If you could get me away from my minders for five minutes," his voice dropped lower still, "I'd probably do whatever you wanted." He left without looking back, leaving the half-empty plate on the table.

Nagi shoved his hands into his lap and thought intensely about Mother Agnes, who had such a large mole on her nose they thought it was a tumor.

After three minutes, he could stand up. He took his phone out of his pocket and sent a text: _10 mins,_ and snagged the rest of the mushrooms off the plate. He hovered by the bar for three minutes, then walked slowly to Takatori. "Five minutes," he said, walking by, not making eye contact. "Northeast hallway."

Takatori didn't respond.

Nagi went out the southwest entrance, looped back around to the northeast hallway, and waited.

 

"I can't believe it's so simple," Takatori said, his eyes on the PASIV case. "You just … plug me in, and I'm dreaming?"

"Pretty much," Nagi said, flipping the switches. "Are you sure about this?"

"I want to see," he said. "I'm sure. What do you do, normally? When you do...this?"

"I'm an architect." He took the needle out. "What you see? I create."

"How do you do it? How does it seem real?"

"I'll show you," he said. "Give me your arm."

Takatori stretched his right arm out, so his arm touched Nagi's chest. "Be sure to get me home before bedtime," he said, and winked.

If Nagi put the needle in with too much force, it didn't matter. Takatori would never remember it.

 

The Takatori family compound was more than a castle. It had grounds and gardens, and an old-fashioned pavilion the grandfather used to hold court in. Probably because it was harder to hide a recording device out there.

Mamoru was waiting for him just outside the door, where his grandfather and Crawford were speaking in low voices. Nagi wondered if that was the real Crawford or a construct. Difficult to tell at this distance. "I want to show you something," Mamoru said, and walked toward the back of the pavilion. Nagi followed. "This is my favorite part of the grounds."

Nagi had worked hard to research the gardens, just in case; he'd made them more vibrant, green and growing. Mamoru reached out and touched one of the white roses. "I worked at a flower shop once," he said, almost wistfully. "I still like plants."

A shaggy-haired, tiger-striped cat passed by, and for a moment it stared at Nagi. His notes hadn't said anything about cats on the compound. He ignored the projection and followed Mamoru further out into the grounds.

A gardener's shed stood near the edge of the formal cutting garden, and Mamoru led him to the edge of the grounds. "This," he said, "is an extremely special place."

"And why's that?" Nagi asked, as Mamoru swung around, putting his back to the shed.

Mamoru pointed. "See that security camera? It cuts off about --" he gestured-- "half a meter left. The camera on the other side cuts off about half a meter to the right, which gives me about a square meter of space where the cameras don't see anything at all." He leaned back against the wall. "Some weeks it's the only time I have where I'm really alone."

"So we're alone now," Nagi said carefully.

Mamoru's smile was wicked.

Nagi walked closer to him. He could smell Mamoru's cologne. Expensive. Pretentious. Distracting. It was a good thing he could do this job with both eyes closed and his mind on something else entirely because--

Mamoru's mouth was hot and wet and Nagi found himself grabbing at his lapels to pull him closer, grabbing at his cravat and pulling it loose. The kiss started awkwardly, but it didn't matter, none of it mattered, it felt too good for any of it to matter. When they broke for air, Nagi licked at Mamoru's exposed neck, and then sank his teeth into the skin, just enough to hurt, just enough to make Mamoru buck against him.

He wanted to leave bruises, even if they weren't real.

Mamoru said something that might have been a curse and might have been encouragement; his fingers dug hard into Nagi's shoulders. Nagi's fingers reached down for Mamoru's fly, and Mamoru's noises were definitely encouragement now. "Please," Nagi said, and wondered why he was begging.

There was a noise. Nagi stepped back from Mamoru--

Crawford, holding a gun, pursued by what seemed like an entire herd of cats--

Nagi shook his head. "What the--"

Crawford shot him.

"Fuck!" Nagi said, awake in the room. "What the fuck is--"

Farfarello was already pulling the line out of his arm. "We have to move," he said. "Now."

"What about--"

Takatori was gasping awake next to him. "Your boss shot me," he said, dazed.

"He shot both of us," Nagi snapped, holding the cotton Farfarello had given him to his bleeding arm.

"We're compromised," Schuldig said. What the hell was he doing awake already?

"What do you mean, compromised?" Nagi asked as Crawford woke. Mamoru was watching them, his eyes wide and attentive.

"The information was already gone. They were setting us up. Probably an assassination attempt." Schuldig checked his revolver. "We need to be out of here. Ten minutes ago."

"It makes sense." Takatori got up and reached for his jacket. "Where are we going?"

"We?" Crawford asked.

"You set me up." Takatori shrugged his jacket on and checked something. "You almost got me killed. I suspect business will suffer if you're suspected of murdering your targets, rather than just stealing their secrets."

"It depends on the client," Schuldig muttered, but Crawford nodded agreement. He gestured, and together they moved out of the conference room they'd been using to stage the operation. They filed quickly into the hallway.

The door to their right opened, and one of Takatori's minders appeared. "Takatori-sama," he said urgently, "we must--"

A dart flew from Takatori's hand and landed in the man's shoulder. He blinked in disbelief and then dropped to the ground almost instantly.

Nagi took a moment to stare.

"If you don't secure yourself," Takatori said flatly, "you're not secure at all. Let's go."

"Did it kill him?" Farfarello asked.

"He'll sleep for a few hours, that's all." Takatori sounded a little disappointed. "It's a good lesson to them."

"They'll probably watch you even more carefully now," Nagi said. No one else in the hallway; the service entrance was only a few more doors away.

"I'm not entirely sure that's possible," Takatori noted.

Takatori pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened it up, and pulled out the memory and SIM cards. "I'll also pay to find out how you got me away from my minders."

"Professional secret," Crawford said. "Farfarello, are we clear?"

"For now," Farfarello said. "Move fast."

"I pay very well," Takatori said.

"I'll consider it," Crawford said."Why don't we focus on getting out alive, for now?"

"Agreed."


End file.
